


Don't Take that Sinner from Me

by JessicaDoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apple Pie Life, Canon Compliant through Season 5, Dead Sam, F/M, Human Castiel, Hunter Retirement, M/M, My First Destiel Fanfic, Supernatural Ministry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaDoom/pseuds/JessicaDoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is gone. He's locked up in Lucifer's cage and he can't come back. Dean has done his best to move on with his life. He's built a family and given up all he's ever known. Until, that is, he takes a call from Castiel who asks him to come in on a hunt. A hunt that will reveal a side of the angel neither knew could have ever existed before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic for Supernatural, and so far I'm feeling happy with it. This chapter is just to get things started. I know there's not enough Cas yet, but keep reading after this and he'll come around more. I promise.
> 
> The fic takes place right after the season five finale - "Swan Song". I have disregarded everything that takes place afterwards. Well, not everything - I've kept a few of the things shown about Dean's 'new' life from season six. But mostly it's changed. Sam is gone, he's not coming back. Which means Castiel isn't going on a quest to restore Heaven. You'll see what he does instead as the story unfolds. Other than that, I'm keeping all of the canon through season five. (If I mess up on ANYTHING, feel free to call me out!)
> 
> The basis for the muse of this fic is the song "Devil's Backbone" by The Civil Wars. It's like a running theme in my head for emotions and whatnot. I suggest listening to the song before getting into reading.
> 
> And that is all I have to say for now! Enjoy the read and, as always, I love to hear your feedback :D

Every single morning felt too easy now. And at the same time, mornings now felt like waking up to a hellish alter reality. A reality that Dean hated to admit was just how things were now.

Most people would think his new 'apple pie life' was normal. It might have even been close to perfect from the outside. He had Lisa and Ben and a job he was good at and weekends off. Most people wouldn't be able to find a single flaw in what he was doing.

But most people didn't know the backstory. They didn't know what he'd gone through to get to this point. And they didn't know what he used to have.

Dean had promised his brother Sam that he wouldn't try to bring him back. He swore he would come back to this family that was foolish enough to claim him and allow his brother to remain lost. But that was a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. His first instinct was to come here, that was for sure. He had wanted to do as he was asked. But shortly after arriving, that itch started to settle in. All his life, there had been one constant. One thing that did not fail him or change or truly leave him. It was Sam. His father went out on hunts and sometimes abandoned them for weeks, once or twice it was months. Their mother had passed tragically when he was too young to fully understand it. They moved around too much for any one person to have a lasting effect on him. But Sam was always there.

Even when he wasn't – when he went off to college and tried to make a normal life for himself – Dean always carried his younger brother with him. Those years without him felt like torture, being the only one to take the brunt of their Father's orders. How exactly was he supposed to, then, go the rest of his life with that pain? Especially when the pain was a thousand-fold harsher from knowing that Sam was _dead_ this time and not just trying to escape the lifestyle they had been forced into all their childhood.

They had been through this too many times already. Dying and coming back and trading souls and time for one another. Sam had started the whole system by finding that faith healer years ago! Without even knowing the hands of fate he was tipping, he had forced someone else to give their life for Dean. It didn't seem fair that he wouldn't be receiving that favor again this time.

That was the way he had wanted it, though. He had been so adamant on the issue. And though Dean searched for some way to barter for Sam to return from that pit that was likely tearing him to pieces, he kept to his bargain. He looked, but never actually tried any of the flightless possibilities he found. None of them would have worked, anyway.

Dean hardly slept these days. Truthfully, he hadn't enjoyed a full night's sleep since Sam's death. Some nights he awoke from a night terror and found he was reluctant to close his eyes again. Others, he couldn't even hope to fall asleep to begin with. And, others still, he would do everything he could to distract himself from the need to rest his eyes even for a moment.

He drank too much, he was often distant or short-tempered, and his emotions were like barely-attached wires. Why Lisa kept him around, he couldn't even fathom.

"Dean...?"

The soft, hesitant voice floated to Dean as if through a wall. Shaking his head to rid himself of his stupor, he turned over onto his other side in their bed to look at her. Even in his state, he couldn't help the quirking upturn at the corner of his lips. Just a hint of a smile - which was at least something to indicate his state for the morning. He was at least partially partaking in the world. "Yeah," he whispered, capturing one of her dark, wavy curls and twirling it around his finger absently.

Lisa returned the smile, though it enveloped her entire face in a way Dean could never understand. She was always so happy to wake and find him in her bed. Her eyes always said she expected him not to still be by her side. "Good morning..."

Her mood was infectious. Grinning toothily, Dean flipped over a little further and moved to cage the woman in with his arms. The bare inches of their skin grazed together, for the moment replacing his thoughts of nightmares with less complicated desires. Their lips slicked together, forming lazy morning kisses.

"Dean, it's Saturday," Lisa whispered as the man slipped one hand beneath her back to pull her closer. His fingers softly dug into the spot where her nightgown quit covering her back. He always had a way of holding her so passionately, even just for a second. Making her feel completely safe and enveloped sometimes with just a simple touch.

"I know." The way Dean carded his fingers through her hair clearly conveyed that he had no idea why that should mean anything to him. It was the weekend – two days off of work and the sudden need to make them count. "No school for Ben, no work for us, no weekend barbecue to attend. We should do something. We should…do something – all three of us. Fishing or tourist-trap hitting or…something." He chuckled softly, setting his lips to Lisa's neck before ghosting his fingertips over the sensitive flesh.

The noise the woman under him made in response was almost anguished. Lisa placed a gentle hand to Dean's chest and he pulled back, sensing the soft letdown. "I have those new classes to teach – starting today."

Dean's heart sank just a little bit and he breathed a soft sigh. "Right…I forgot…." A few seconds later, the alarm clock began blaring on Lisa's side of the bed. She reached over to turn it off, but didn't force her boyfriend to move away. She did, however, pull him back in for another lingering kiss. One that told him she wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with him for even another few minutes. To give him that type of reassurance in his new life that he seemed to always be searching for. Something she understood and could never be offended by because she knew what he'd been through. Not all of it – he was often reluctant to share details of his life and his childhood. He said the memories he had were too scarring to talk about.

And that was all okay. As long as he was here and she could help him with even just that fact…everything was okay. They had it good here.

"I guess you should get ready, then," Dean said resignedly and settled up onto his knees. He stretched his arms above his head, grinning at the way Lisa's eyes followed the flex of the muscles hidden under his plain, white t-shirt. He winked in response, doing that head tilt that made any of his cheeky actions come off in a strange mixture of sexy and adorable. And without giving her a moment to fully think on that, he gave her one last kiss and crawled out of bed.

Laughing softly to herself, Lisa also rolled to her feet and ran her fingers through the fine hairs at the base of Dean's hair. "Mow the lawn today, okay? Maybe the three of us can go for dinner tonight." And with that, she was disappearing into their bathroom. Leaving Dean once again alone with his thoughts.

A darkness shifted into his eyes for a moment, just before he was able to shake the regrets clouding them. He pulled on jeans over his boxers, scratching at the scruff on his jaw as he headed for the kitchen. Ben was already awake, settled in a stool at the kitchen island with some sort of portable gaming system. They nodded at one another, sharing small smiles in greeting. "Hungry?"

Ben nodded quietly, closing his game and sliding off the stool. "I can start the eggs," he offered and tugged open the refrigerator door.

It was a normal morning, just like any other in his less-exciting, new life. Not that a lack of excitement was unwelcome. Dean had to admit that a year of pretending the world wasn't full of evil ready to strike was romantic in a way. But he also couldn't ignore the uncomfortable itch that came along with it.

It didn't feel right not to be hunting _something_ for so long...

As if on cue, a sound Dean hadn't heard in much too long caught his attention. He frowned, stopping his hand mid-way through flipping a pancake. It fell onto the stove, but he didn't care. He had to make sure he wasn't hallucinating the sound. It was something he hadn't heard since...

"Is that your phone?" Lisa's question hit him like a brick wall. He wasn't hearing things.

Neglecting the pancakes for the moment, Dean stepped back from the stove and dug his hand in pocket. His fingers curled around the basic cell phone settled next to his newer model. It was something he kept in service, but paid little attention to nowadays. He had a feeling Bobby had told the other hunters they knew not to call Dean. But it was ringing now - he could see the screen lit up in his hands. "Yeah," he muttered in response and leaned back against the countertop. "Yeah, it's my, uh... My old number." He ended with another head-tilting frown, watching the device give one last ring before silencing.

Sighing, Lisa took over where Dean left off at the stove. She eyed him and watched the stability fading from his features. After turning away from the man, she shared a concerned look with Ben before mussing his hair. "I want you to help Dean with yard work this morning," she said with a faint smile. It was her attempt to change the subject.

An attempt that was noticeably futile when the ringer went off once again. This time Dean paid attention to the information of the call. It was a number not saved in his contacts. That uncertainty of not knowing who was on the other line was what caused his thumb to hesitate over the 'answer' button. It could be anyone... Someone he knew, someone he didn't - _anyone_.

The only thing Dean knew for sure was that there was one person it definitely was not. And that thought caused his heart to sink measurably.

Running his left hand rather roughly over his mouth and across the stubble on his chin, Dean made a rash decision to just answer the call. He brought it up to his ear as he walked briskly from the room, eager to hide the distressed sag of his shoulders from the other two.

They wouldn't understand.

Dean didn't speak a word as he held the phone in a vice grip to his ear. He wasn't really sure why - he just knew he didn't want to speak first. He needed to know who was calling him before he decided if he would say anything at all.

"Hello, Dean."

"Cas..."

The whispered name was as natural as a breath of air leaving Dean's lips. He hadn't said it in so long, and yet it still felt as easy as ever. It was like the last year hadn't been spent away from one another. It still felt like they could be fighting off the apocalypse - and that thought made his heart feel like it was on fire with worry again.

For a long moment, both men were silent. The tension was palpable, but wasn't suffocating. It was...almost comfortable in a way. Castiel had always been someone of few words. Dean would have been shocked if he had started off with a long dialogue.

"What did you need, Cas?" he asked finally.

 _Is it about Sam?_ was what he wanted to add on, but that question was pointless. Of course it wasn't about Sam. Sam was gone. There was nothing changing that. Things would never be about Sam again. He would even be willing to go through his brother's demon blood addiction fiasco again if it meant _something_ could be about him. Just one more time.

There was a ruffling noise on the other end that Dean couldn't quite identify. Then a soft, sad noise – a sniffle? – before Castiel spoke again. "I need your help, Dean. Bobby has already warned me that you are 'out of the lifestyle'," the air-quotes were almost comically present in his tone, "but you would be doing me a great favor."

'Out of the lifestyle'. That meant hunting something. Dean couldn't deny the small rush he felt at that prospect, but he knew he had to settle it. Bobby was right – he was done with hunting. Hunting reminded him of Sammy and he just couldn't do that anymore. It would feel too much like getting gripped around the heart – and he knew that feeling all-too-well by this point. And, besides, Lisa and Ben were in his life now. He couldn't just pack up and leave them. They were his family and practically all he had left in the world. He wasn't about to give up that safety net and throw it all away for some case he was sure some other hunter could handle just fine.

"I can't, Cas," he said, his voice low almost like he was whispering. "I don't hunt anymore. Besides, if it involves you, chances are this has to do with angel and demon crap. And I just don't fucking feel like being a part of that anymore. No offense, Cas, but I'd be happy never to see either brand of douchebag again."

Dean didn't necessarily mean that. He did miss Castiel. Cas…. He was his friend, when it came down to it. He had been the one to bring him back from hell. Yes, he had just been following orders, but through the time spent with him, the meaning had changed. And he had changed. Cas had rebelled against heaven to side with the Winchesters and their mission to derail the apocalypse. Through that time, there was a part of him that became slightly human. He still walked with that stick up his ass and talked with measured words, but he wasn't solely an angel anymore. He was different than the others.

So, really, he did mean that he didn't want to see demons and angels ever again. Both species had done their part to ruin his life. _But_ if he could see Cas, just once to talk to him or just _see_ him, that could be okay…. Possibly. If the memories weren't too harsh.

"This has nothing to do with angels or demons, Dean," Cas said on a sigh. The sadness in his tone was rather heartbreaking. "You would be doing a personal favor to me. I am staying at the Welcome Inn Motel in Union City, Michigan. It would mean a great deal to me if you would come."

The line went dead after that. Dena found himself pulling the phone away from his ear and just staring at the screen as it blinked the call-ended message. The conversation had been short – maybe too short – but it had left his head spinning nonetheless.

He had already said he wasn't going to do it. He wasn't going to follow Cas and whatever problem he had currently landed himself in. He wasn't going to _hunt_ again!

And yet, there was this little part of him that longed so desperately for it. What he couldn't figure out, however, was if that longing was for seeing Castiel or getting back into a life he was afraid to admit he missed.

"Dean?" Lisa's voice was soft as she came to his side. She was always so soft in the most startling of ways…. He blinked, still staring at the phone and shook his head. Trying to clear his mind and actually articulate a response. "Dean, who was it?"

Taking in a deep breath, he raised his eyes to his girlfriend. They swam with the phantom pain of tears that he tried his damnedest to blink away. She looked on at him concerned, but kept her distance. She knew what could happen if she came too close too quickly. In the past, his flashbacks had sometimes been violent.

Before he could even begin to answer that question, Dean needed to take stock of himself. He needed to figure out exactly where his head was. He stepped back, looking back down at the floor. His fingers were still clenched around the cell phone so tight it was threatening to break. A million conflicting thoughts swam through his head and his heart pounded harshly against his ribcage. It felt like he was having a heart attack as he was simultaneously forced to make a life or death situation. He was being torn in two different directions, the two sides of his ever-warring heart unable to agree, as usual.

"It was an old friend," he said cautiously, leaning back against the wall and running his fingers through his hair. It stuck up on end, but he didn't notice. His distraction was too blinding. "Someone I haven't talked to since…." His stomach turned and he fought it off. "He…. It seems like he wants me to come in on a hunt…." Even though he was visibly shaken, he wasn't holding anything back from his girlfriend. She knew the rougher parts of him. She was practically the only person he trusted with his story and the truth about him and his life at this point.

Lisa's face was clear of emotion for a moment. She steeled herself, not wanting to act rashly. The first sign she even made of acknowledging the unspoken question of whether he should go or not was the casual glance to the clock hanging on the wall near Dean's head. "I will support whatever decision you need to make," she said, stepping forward carefully to lean in for a kiss. Dean barely returned it, but secured his arm around her waist to show he appreciated her understanding. "Just take Ben to my sister's before you leave…."

She already knew what Dean's decision was going to be. His old life had come knocking back at his door and she could see the lust for it in his eyes. He could tell himself that he liked being settled down and family-oriented, but she knew that wasn't fully true. Lisa could see that he was a restless man who needed to be doing something tougher than block parties and school functions day-to-day to be satisfied. Maybe he used the whole hunting thing as a distraction from…well, anything, but it seemed to be a distraction he liked. One he had grown accustomed to in his life. And how could she rightfully deny him that? It was a part of him – like a limb – that existed far before she spent the night with him that changed her life.

"I have to go. Call me, okay?"

Dean nodded and watched her go back into the kitchen before leaving. He heard her speaking to Ben, telling him that she would get him after she was finished teaching her yoga classes. That Dean was going away for a little while. And all he had to say was 'okay' in return. They both were fine with this? They knew where he was going, right? They knew he was possibly getting back into his old life? They knew that this could possibly end one day because of that? They knew that if he left right now he may never come back? Right? They had to.

Wordlessly, Dean made for the garage door. He closed it behind him, leaving his hesitations inside. Lisa was sure this was fine – so he could be, too. It was one small hunt. And maybe it wouldn't even be a case at all. Cas could just need him for…other reasons. He was absolutely inept when it came to most human things. If he was on Earth, he could have just gotten himself in a bit of trouble. It could be a small fix. It could be just fine.

This could be the small taste of the old life he needed to confirm that he needed to be here.

As Dean crossed to the Impala and pushed off her tarp, he knew he didn't believe that. "You're a beautiful sight, Baby," he said proudly and ran his fingers over the smooth, black paint. He'd been storing the car for a year now - hadn't been behind the steering wheel or touched the arsenal in the trunk since driving here from Kansas.

There was definitely something reawakening inside of Dean. He could feel that familiar rush in his veins that his 'normal' life used to supply. It was definitely tinged with sadness after what happened last year, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He was no stranger to loss. Sure, this one was worse than anything else he'd ever had to endure...

But just being out here, standing next to the family car that stood for so much, he knew he could already feel Sam's presence again. Not in a haunted type of way, but definitely like he was more than just a distant memory. Sam had wanted him to come back to Lisa and Ben and have a family like they had never been allowed to experience before. But was that _really_ what he wanted for his brother? To forget him and what they went through all those years? To give up every good or bad memory of him and trade it for something he still wasn't sure he even deserved?

"Do I get to ride in her?" Ben asked from the doorway, clear excitement in his voice. Dean turned to look at him, noticeable tears in his eyes and couldn't help the prideful glint the candy-apple green took on. He chuckled under his breath, blinking away the emotions, and headed back into the house with a nod.

He still wasn't sure what going to 'help Cas' was going to do to him. He had no idea what even lay in store for him out there. How it would make him feel. What light he would view this family in when he returned. If he would ever return. But he knew he could figure that out. He had a quiet drive ahead of him to muscle through it all.

This was something he needed. Reconnecting with that life he had so easily given up would be something good for them all in the end. He needed to know what he was giving up at least one more time. If he was going to spend the rest of his life in the suburbs throwing kids' birthday parties and making small talk with the neighbors, he had to know that it was for sure what he wanted.

"I'm still doing this for you, Sammy," Dean whispered as he gripped the steering wheel tight.

Ben stood in the doorway of his aunt's house, watching the only father he had ever known drive away.

There was a definite air of uncertainty hanging between them. The future wasn't set in stone - but was it ever when it came to Dean? What happened would happen, regardless of lingering feelings begging to be heard.

The jet-black,1967 Chevy Impala flew along Interstate 69 as if it belonged there. And she did. If she wasn't out on the road with a Winchester, what was the point? This was how things were supposed to be – Dean in the driver's seat, blaring Zeppelin to drown out those strongly buried feelings. He loved Lisa and he looked at Ben as his own son, but nothing could ever compare to this right here. It felt more like home than the house he was leaving behind. And he knew that if he ever decided to go back, it would never feel as true and real as this right here. Going on a case, meeting up with Cas – saving people and hunting things.

Dean had no doubt that this was going to hurt. He already had to catch himself from looking over to the passenger seat for his brother. He had to focus extra hard on the roads he was taking to get through the distracted buzz in the corner of his mind. It was different this time, there was no mistaking that. And it wasn't even like those times he had gone off without Sam. He wasn't just on his own this time and he knew that. This wasn't a quick rendezvous with Castiel for inside angel information. This time there was a reason he hadn't seen Cas in so long, other than just that they were both busy keeping the world together.

Sam's death was the rat gnawing at the edges of his brain. And the closer he came to the location Cas asked for them to meet, the louder that gnawing became. The louder he would have to turn up his music. The louder he would have to sing along.

As he rolled into Union City, he felt jittery. It was like he had slammed down five cups of coffee in the matter of a few minutes. He was thankful to put the Impala in park and get out to stretch his legs at a gas station. Without a doubt, there was a part of him that was eager to see Cas, but he needed to brace himself for a moment. To take a break and fill up the car.

He needed just one more moment to think this through before jumping back into a hunt. He needed to make sure that this was for sure what he should be doing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I do apologize for the lateness of my update. I was on vacation and then I was museless and now I am sick. I did, though, finally get this churned out. Updates for Slightly Broken will be coming as soon as I can get them worked out. Thanks for sticking in and enjoy. And, as always, I do appreciate the uplifting power of the comment.

Dean could never really explain the thrill of putting on his suit. He knew it had something to do with the fact that growing up, he'd never had a reason to dress up. They hadn't even attended his mother's funeral and that was one of the only times a small child would put on something this fancy. He most certainly didn't try hard enough to rent a suit for the few dances he attended throughout his multiple high schools. And hunting with his father had included a definite lack of creativity that couldn't even come close to this.

This suit _worked_. It was nice and fit him well. He looked respectable. Maybe that was it. It was hard for him to find anything respectable about his own self. But covers in the FBI, CDC, what have you - they were good enough to wear a suit day in and day out. Which meant when he was them, he was good enough, too.

The air somehow felt lighter as Dean emerged from the gas station bathroom. He combed his hands down the length of his tie before tucking it into his jacket. Castiel hadn't given much information, so he wasn't sure what he was walking into. But he sure as hell was going to be ready.

Finally feeling like he could be ready for this (mostly because he was ignoring the creeping feeling inside), Dean headed for the motel. It wasn't that hard to find - Union City was rather small. It was a village of barely over 1,500 people and he had to drive through the small expanse of it to get to the outer limits.

The motel Cas had mentioned was practically in the middle of nowhere. If the sign hadn't been by the road, he might have just kept driving. It was a rundown establishment, the likes of which the Winchesters would have stayed in back in the day. Castiel had at least followed normal 'protocol'. And for that, Dean couldn't help but to be sort of proud of him. It was small, but it was something of comfort.

Upon parking, Dean stepped out of the Impala and closed the door gently before buttoning up his suit jacket. Straightening his tie. Fixing his collar. Then walked into the motel office and cleared his throat at the young man behind the counter. He put out a bit of a Norman Bates type vibe, but for the moment that could be ignored. Until he knew what they were facing here, it was best to just find Cas.

"I'm looking for this stiff guy in a tan trench coat," he said to the young man, raising a brow and looking as if he expected an answer without any real authority. It was his presence that was truly influential.

With a frown, the man shrugged. "Have you tried eHarmony?"

Dean's expression shifted from all-business to absolutely done. He squared his jaw and leaned in closer. "Listen here, you little-"

"Dean."

Surprised by the voice, Dean turned with a half-smile and leaned back on the counter. His elbows perched up on top and he readied himself to take in the sight of the angel in his entirely predictable state.

Except….

"Something's wrong with you," he said bluntly, eyeing the man in front of him with narrowed eyes. The vessel was the same - that was for sure. Castiel still had Jimmy's features and that carelessly messy hair and his eyes were still the same icicle-blue they took on when he looked at him. But he wasn't wearing a trench coat, a white button-down, a blue tie, or a pair of black slacks. Instead he wore a set of light blue jeans and an entirely too-plain grey sweater that zipped down partway in the front to reveal a white shirt underneath. His lips lacked their usual chapped quality. And his usual stubble was actually _groomed_.

There was something different about Castiel. He looked more alive and… _normal_ by the standards of other humans.

Cas only cracked a smile and nodded at the young man behind the desk. "James," he croaked out, his voice softer than normal. He was subdued in a way that Dean had never seen him. Well…not really, anyway. There was that one time when Zachariah….

Shaking his head to clear the image – that was a fluke thought – Dean glanced back at the desk attendant as he smiled. "Castiel, you know this fruitcake?"

Dean sighed heavily and pushed off the counter. "He's an old friend," Cas replied and waved before heading back for the door. "Come on, Dean. We can talk in my room."

He walked out swiftly and without another word. Dean sort of had an obligation to follow him now. He threw one more dirty look at the clerk before leaving, as well. "Obviously you've been here awhile," he observed, noting the ease with which Cas had spoken to the man.

Sighing, Castiel stopped walking a few feet from the office. He rubbed at his forehead like he was in deep thought, then turned back to the man. They just stared at one another, words on the tip of the angel's tongue. He knew what he wanted to say, it seemed, but was holding back for some reason. "Maybe…. Maybe we should get something to eat first," he grumbled softly and locked his eyes onto the Impala's sleek, black exterior.

Angels didn't eat. The only time Dean had even witnessed Castiel consuming food had been solely because of Famine's influence. And even then it wasn't his fault. His vessel had caused that hunger. With a frown, Dean stepped closer to Cas and looked into his eyes. Trying to see something in them that still meant he was the same angel he had left as a year ago. "What happened to you, man?" he asked quietly, seeing nothing.

With a small look towards a door a few feet away from where they stood, Cas muttered quietly, "I would prefer if we spoke over lunch. Mel's Diner... It is in town...I will guide you." He then headed for the Impala without another word, leaving Dean in a cloud of confusion.

In the time that they had been apart, Dean had nearly forgotten just how frustratingly simple Castiel was. How good he was at blatantly avoiding discussing of things he didn't care for. He stood there for a second, scratching at the overgrown stubble he had forgotten to shave before rushing to leave that morning. Trying to put things together so he could understand just why he was here in the first place. To understand if he had in fact missed Cas and was grateful to see him again or not.

The tightening of his shoulders contradicted the inflating lightness of his heart on the matter.

Driving to the diner was just as awkward as expected. Both men sat stiff in their seats and no music played to cover their silence. The only sound made were the simple directions Castiel gave on which way to turn and where to park. They then walked into the small restaurant, the angel looking as if he practically owned the place. Saying hello to almost everyone and smiling up a storm. It was…unreal and so unlike the Cas he knew, that Dean couldn't help but to feel uncomfortable.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong here. _Everything_ was wrong here.

Heavy and realizing his hunger, Dean collapsed into a booth across from Castiel. He didn't take his eyes off of the other, not even to glance at the menu. Those ocean-blue eyes wouldn't meet his. In fact, they carefully avoided it. Like Cas knew if they locked gazes, the weirdness to him would be even more noticeable.

"Cas! It's like clockwork with you. Same time, every day. Though this is new…." The waitress, in her mid-thirties and wrought with all the physical signs of having children. She looked tired and overworked, but her whole face was lit up with joy at the sight of what seemed like one of her regulars. Her eyes were transfixed upon Dean momentarily, however, and that caused a soft crease in her brow.

Giving a forced smile, Dean waved at the woman and sucked on his teeth. "Melanie, this is Dean. He's a friend in town for, uh…. For support for, uh…you know," Castiel answered fluidly. He pulled Dean's menu away from him and ordered for them both. "Two bacon burgers, sides of fries, and strong coffee. Dean will take his black and you know how I like mine."

Melanie nodded and wrote down the order, but lingered a moment after she was finished. She very clearly had something she wanted to say, but was hesitant to utter the words. All she could manage was to lay her hand over Castiel's, squeezing with a sympathetic sound and a wince in her features.

"I think it's time you explain a few things," Dean all-but-snapped as the woman walked away. Castiel's eyes finally slowly slid up to meet his. For the first time, he caught the glimpse of sadness they carried. "Like what I'm supposed to be supporting you for, for one!"

"Dean…. Please…." Cas' voice was absolutely broken as he begged for patience. His demeanor looked shaky, like he had gotten over the joy of seeing his old friend again and now…. He couldn't hold up the appearance anymore.

Some part of Dean felt bad for prodding. The part that had a deep bond with this angel that only came from being saved. The part that had sobbed with he realized Castiel healing him last year had wiped away the handprint scar. The part that felt an intense tug towards the man-shaped entity across from him that he just couldn't explain. Clearly, whatever was going on here affected Cas in a deep way. He didn't feel right pressuring him into giving him all the details. And yet…. "I came here on basically nothing, Cas. I left Lisa and Ben with _no_ explanation. I dropped everything and came out here because _you_ asked. I had normal things to do like mow the lawn and buy groceries. I dropped the hunter's life because…. _You know why_. And now look where I am. Sitting across from you in another small-town diner like nothing has changed. The _least_ you can do is tell me why we're both here. Why are you even on earth, Cas…?"

The waitress coming back to deliver their food gave Dean the time he needed to clear his throat and calm down. To wipe the tears from his eyes and pretend like he wasn't a big, sobbing mess. It was ridiculous how this casual mention of just something close to being about Sam brought him near to breaking. He thought he was over that. He thought he was okay. The only good thing he could take from this was that he wasn't hallucinating his brother again. He hadn't done that for a long time and he was grateful for that. If he ever got that far back into his 'grieving' stage, he was sure he'd just be done.

"I was…. Wandering," Castiel said slowly, gripping his coffee cup with both hands. He stared down at the light brown, almost caramel color of the liquid inside, watching it ripple as he tapped his fingers upon the ceramic. "After I left you that night, I went back to Heaven. It was…chaos up there. Absolute chaos…." He sighed and scratched at his forearm in too-human of a fashion. "I looked around at it and…. I realized it terrified me. I realized I didn't…belong there anymore. I wanted to fix it so badly, to help in the repair, but I just couldn't. I'm no leader, Dean. I'm not worthy enough to be a part of that…world anymore. I rebelled and for that, everyone knew I didn't belong.

"So I came back here. I…wandered around from place to place, never staying for too long. Until I stumbled upon a village just up the road from here. Athens. I…stopped in at this small restaurant – the Copper Kettle - for something to eat. I was just planning to pass by, really. I wasn't going to stay for long-"

"Wait a second," Dean interrupted, pausing in the distraction of eating his own food to give another good look at the angel in front of him. He watched as Castiel paused mid-way through raising a ketchup-drenched French fry up to his lips. "You're _eating_? I thought you just ordered for the sake of appearances. But, you're actually eating?"

Angels didn't eat. They didn't scratch their arms and tap their coffee cups. They were creatures of serenity and grace. They weren't _human_. And, still, here Cas was – acting just as human as Dean himself.

Castiel seemed angered by the question slightly. He deposited the fry in his mouth with a near vengeance and raised his brow. "Yes, I'm eating," he said with a heavy sarcastic tone to his voice. The type of sass he usually reserved specifically for Dean, so that was refreshing. "How about, for all intents and purposes, we say that I'm strictly human now? Hm?"

The shock was heavy, to say the least. Dean had to literally sit back in the booth with his arms extended and crossed behind his head to try and force-clear his mind. Castiel was…human…. Or said he was. Or maybe it wasn't even that he was. Maybe he just thought he was. Or wanted to be. Either way, it was something he had never seen and didn't know how to deal with.

No, scratch that – he had seen it. Once before when Zachariah had sent him to the future. Future Cas had said…. He had said he was human. In a way. He no longer had powers and his heart really didn't seem into it, anyway. In that future, Castiel had been broken and beaten down to nothing. He thought nothing of himself and did everything he could to drown out that pain.

And this…what was so different about this? Was he just holding it together better? Did he do a better job at hiding his pain? Or had it just not progressed enough yet?

Finally dropping his arms back to his sides, Dean raised his eyes back to Cas'. They met for just a moment before the once-angel averted his gaze in embarrassment. No, not embarrassment. Shame. Like he felt he'd let the man down.

"Fine," Dean said softly, returning to his food and his bitter coffee as if nothing had happened. Like this was just normal as could be. "We'll say you're human. Go ahead – continue."

Castiel nodded weakly. He picked at his food, now, the slump coming back to his shoulders. The need to defend himself had left and he was once again tired and broken. "I didn't mean to stay, Dean. But at that restaurant, I met someone. And through him, I found a place where I could feel I _belonged_." He yanked the bacon out of his burger and took a chunk out of it like it had hurt him personally.

A million and one thoughts ran through Dean's head. But the first and foremost on his mind was, "Please tell me you don't participate in orgies." Because for some reason, this mattered. A lot.

The laugh Cas gave in response was like a tinkling bell. His whole face lit up and, even though he was confused, he looked amused. "I've missed this," he admitted unabashedly and shook his head slowly back and forth. "And, no, I do not participate in…in such things. I am, still, an Angel of the Lord, Dean." He pushed his food away, hardly touched. "Though why that would be your go-to response puzzles me quite a bit…."

Chuckling to himself, Dean waved it off. He didn't feel like explaining in the middle of the mom-and-pop shop diner. Maybe someday. "Doesn't matter." He shrugged off his jacket to get more comfortable and rolled up the sleeves of his button-down. The longer he was around Cas, the easier it was getting. It was hard, there was no doubting that with the memories rushing through his head, but it was also like being home. Really home. "So, it sounds like things are good for you, here. You're…not you and you eat red meat without the influence of a horseman. But, you're good. Yeah?"

Everything about Cas said he was the exact opposite of 'good', but Dean could hope, right? His hopeful grin was met with an unbridled wince that caused his heart to sink. He could never recall wanting to reach over the table and embrace so one so fiercely.

"Ah…. And therein lies the reason for your appearance in this village. The reason I called for your help…." There was a heavy sigh and a sag to the angel's body and a careful avoidance of Dean's eyes again. Castiel was hiding something. He was ashamed of something. What did Cas, an angel who had done so much for him and his family and friends and _planet_ , have to be ashamed of?

"Momma says no charge today, Mr. Winchester."

Immediately on red alert – no one in this town should know his name – Dean spun around so fast it looked as if he had been forced to. His eyes fell on a little girl with the same washed-out blonde hair as the waitress just as his fingers found the pistol holstered to his hip. He surveyed the child, no more than six, in her fraying dress and innocent pigtails. Obviously not a threat. And obviously not even looking at him…. Her eyes were solely fixed upon Castiel, both exchanging a silent sentiment that Dean obviously wasn't getting.

"Thank you, Patrice," Castiel whispered softly, fighting back tears. His throat was clogged with emotion in a way Dean had never seen. It caused a physical ache inside himself that this angel was hurting over something this much.

And still he was left to wonder _what_?

The little girl set a takeout box on the table and scampered off. Dean and Castiel were left alone again. And, as he was so accustomed to doing by now, Dean found a way to avoid his feelings. " _Winchester_?" he asked, looking for clarity.

Clearing his throat, Cas nodded and reached for the box, scooping his hardly-touched food off the plate and inside. "People were asking for a last name and…it was the first thing that came to mind. If that is okay…?"

Now that he was over the adrenaline rush of feeling caught or trapped, Dean allowed himself to think over how that actually did make him feel. He frowned, watching Cas close the box very carefully. Watching every move he made, so familiar and yet tinged with something absurdly foreign. Castiel was family – there was no denying that. He had earned his spot amongst them time and time again. But carrying that last name like he owned it and had a right to meant he was something akin to being Dean's brother. And Dean didn't need another brother. He didn't need another father, mother, grandparent. He'd had those and they were all gone. He had never really known what it was like to have a cousin or distant relative he barely knew. And it didn't feel right to put Cas in one of those pigeonholes, just as much as it didn't feel right to think of him as his sibling. The same fire licked at his belly for both, carrying different meanings.

But if there was something else in a family that meant Castiel carried his last name with pride and honor…. That wasn't so bad. Dean wasn't sure what that was, and he really didn't care at that moment. He decided it was fine and that was that. "Sure," he said quietly. "Not like you can change it now." His lips formed a grimacing smile that showed no teeth or genuine happiness before he pushed his clean plate aside and stood.

Castiel nodded, looking slightly grateful for the permission, and stood as well. Once again in silence, the two walked back to the Impala. Though it felt natural to once again be around one another, something was still making this feel forced. Something still felt wrong with seeing Castiel. Something like knowing that Sam should be the one folding himself into the passenger seat, not this angel.

"I would like…to talk more once we get back to my room," Cas ground out when Dean parked again in front of the motel. He said it like he was half expecting Dean to leave now. "I do still need your help…."

"Yeah, Cas…I know," Dean muttered back. He looked up just barely towards Castiel, fiddling with his keys. "You got beer?"

Straightening up in his seat like he was proud of himself, the angel nodded. "I do."

A small sense of foreboding settled into Dean's sure jaunt as they walked together towards Cas' room. It was the same one he had glanced at before they had left. Some form of hesitation was causing the angel to walk up to it slowly. His hands were slightly shaking as he slid the key card into the mechanism. His staggered breathing put his nerves on complete display.

"Is there something I need to know before we go in there?" Dean asked cautiously, settling up uncomfortably close to Cas. Resting his hand upon the angel's shoulder and squeezing to show that he was there for him. To say without vocalizing that he could be of support. He still really had no idea why he was here. From the conversation on the phone, it seemed this had something to do with hunting. But thus far, all he saw was a broken-down angel who was reluctant to speak about what pained him.

Cas tried to flinch away from the touch. There were visible tears now marring his cheeks and his chin wobbled in a way that was too-human. Dean stepped back, giving him the space he seemed to want. "I…. I just needed him to tell me…."

Very slowly, the motel door creaked open. The first thing that hit Dean was an overwhelming stench. He winced, covering his nose with the back of his arm as he pushed past Castiel and into the room. Nothing was out of place. The room was clean and immaculate. There wasn't a hint of rotting food or soiled laundry to be found. Nothing that would normally indicate such a smell.

But Dean knew that particular scent. He wasn't scanning the room for these things, anyway. His eyes were searching for decay. And he found it lying on one of the two double beds lined up against the wall to his right.

The body was absolutely putrid. The skin was broken open in several places, cracking and peeling off the tissue underneath. A good amount of blonde hair had loosened from the young man's scalp and fallen to the pillow he was so carefully perched upon. His skin was the sickly grey of absolute rot. The corpse wore the type of fancy suit on his sallow frame that one would only imagine adorning the dead. This body had been preserved and buried, the peeling makeup and smudges of dirt being perfect indicators. And someone had dug him up….

"I-I needed him to tell me…who killed him…."


End file.
